On Rape, Romance, and Empathy

When Jon Ronson’s galleys for “You’ve Been Shamed” were released, there was a line in it where he compared rape to economic loss, specifically the loss of a job. There was a firestorm of controversy that came out of this given more problematic statements from Ronson, but one thing that struck me at the time (and has stayed with me) was his clear lack of comprehension of rape as a fear for women.

One of the author’s sources, a female member of the infamous message board 4Chan, told him, “4chan aims to degrade the target, right? And one of the highest degradations for women in our culture is rape. We don’t talk about rape of men, so I think it doesn’t occur to most people as a male degradation. With men, they talk about getting them fired. In our society men are supposed to be employed. If they’re fired, they lose masculinity points.”

Struck, Ronson contemplates this idea for a while before deciding, “I don’t know if Mercedes was right, but I do know this: I can’t think of many worse things than getting fired.”

Robin and I talk a lot about paradigms and that it’s hard to understand another person’s point of view if you don’t understand their personal paradigm. It’s essentially nothing more than the proverb “Never criticize a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.”

In Ronson’s case, his greatest fear is apparently losing his job. I think he grasps on to this analogy because it is representative of an actual, dread inspiring event in his life.

First, economic loss in an uncertain time is realistic. Meaning that it is conceivable to the person whereas murder or even death is a more nebulous concept. Second, male identity is often measured around his net worth or, at the very least, his ability to make money. Take that away from a male and, generally speaking, you’ve eviscerated him.

“Being unemployed is actually one of the most difficult, most devastating experiences that people go through,” said Robert L. Leahy, director of the American Insitiute for Cognitive Therapy and author of “The Worry Cure.”

Research suggests that being unemployed doubles a person’s chance of a major depressive episode and that unemployment is also highly associated with domestic violence and alcohol abuse, Leahy said. Unemployment is also associated with an increased risk of suicide, often because of the link to depression, according to the Suicide Research and Prevention Center.

So here we have Ronson, to whom the idea of rape is as nebulous as death and dismemberment—something he knows exists but is as real to him as Thor and the Black Widow—trying to come to a better understanding of what it feels like to be subject to rape threats and comes up with economic loss.

Rape is so foreign to him as an actual threat that he has to reach and search for his own bogeyman to come to a better understanding, however weak it is. Ronson is getting there, though, because the loss of a job and the loss of the ability to earn money, when you’ve identified yourself as being a breadwinner, can be shameful and in our world, in this paradigm, being a rape victim is shameful. Hell, enjoying sex for women is shameful (or there wouldn’t be “slut shaming” or the “madonna/whore” complex).

It was a light bulb moment for me. No wonder comedians, particularly men, have no problem delivering the rape joke and then wondering why women fail to see the funny in it. No wonder men tell women to not be afraid when the women say that they are tired of being afraid. No wonder men scoff at the typed out rape tweets. After all, they are just insults and they’ve heard worse in the locker room from the guy next to them who doesn’t have any clothes on and could actually rape them. Actually no, they couldn’t because men have this feeling of invincibility. They are bigger and stronger and can fight off an attack.

Whereas women are taught that they are the weaker sex. They run “like a girl”, throw “like a girl”, fight “like a girl”. And the girl they are talking about isn’t Ronda Rousey. Moreover, women are taught that to enjoy sex, particularly with more than one partner, is shameful. We see this repeatedly throughout romance books where the good girl who doesn’t sleep around is elevated against the evil other women who spread their legs easily for any male who asks.

Women have been told to not wear certain clothes, make sure to not walk across parking lots and parking garages alone or beyond a certain time period, make sure you are always in well lit areas, make sure you don’t drink to much, make sure you are always with a trusted friend, make sure that just don’t leave your house. Ever.

If you have more than one partner, they can’t exceed the number of fingers on one hand excluding the pinky and the thumb. The thumb isn’t a finger after all. Too much sex is shameful (although there’s never any indication what too much is).

The message to women is that we are weak prey. And any time we are alone, there’s this apprehension that sneaks in. Is *this* the time?

I was reading a message board post about the rape fantasy and someone came on to say that no woman truly wants to be raped. What she wants is to be taken by force in a specific set of defined circumstances where she knows she will not be hurt beyond what she can handle at the hands of someone who is not there to degrade and hurt her beyond the limits of what she is willing to consent to.

In Lilah Pace’s book, Asking for It*, the main character is a rape survivor and she struggles with the fact that she fantasizes about being taken by force. Worse, she has her best sexual releases when she is imagining these things. But she never fantasizes about her attack. Instead it is of a different man and in ways much different than her actual attack.

*Note: Lilah Pace and I share the same editor, Cindy Hwang at Berkley, a division of Penguin.

When she finally does find someone who has the same kink as she does, the lines of consent are clearly drawn. And she wants nothing to do with acts that remind her of the actual attack, at least at first. The two parties engage in outright negotiations about where and when and how her fantasy (and his) will be fulfilled.

“What would it take to make you feel safe?”

I like that he asked this. But how do I answer?

Cut to the chase, I remind myself. Jonah’s blunt honesty is the only way to go. “I’d need you to wear condoms. Unless you want to show me your medical records.”

Jonah nods. “I can get those for you. Can you show me test results too?”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that Jonah also might be concerned about that. “Um. Yeah, sure.”

“No rush,” he says. “I don’t mind wearing a condom at first. Makes it last longer.”

My cheeks flush as I envision Jonah inside me, pounding me, going on and on and on without mercy—

Jonah must know what I’m thinking, because he tilts his head as if he’s relishing the effect he has on me. He murmurs, “What else?”

Another sip of wine steadies me enough to answer. “I wouldn’t want you to tie me up. Not the first time, anyway.”

He smiles. “I like that you’re thinking about the future. I’ll have plenty of chances to give you what you want.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me before today that Jonah might have been considering a onetime fling. Now that I think about it, that makes more sense than assuming we’d keep playing out this scenario. But I’ve wanted this too long, too much, to assume one night will be enough to get it out of my system. If Jonah’s the right partner for this fantasy, then we have a chance I don’t intend to waste.

Already I sense that one taste of Jonah Marks won’t be enough.

“Yes.” I meet his eyes evenly. “Assuming we decide we like it.”

“I think we will.” My God, his smile right now—it’s hungry, and animal, and I know he’s imagining having me. This instant. The knowledge shakes me in the best possible way.

His question to her is how she can feel safe within this forced-sex role playing fantasy. It’s the opposite of real rape where you are unsafe and not in control. In Asking for It, the lines of consent are so clearly and obviously drawn. But in other books, the lines of consent are more nebulous and I think those are the books in which authors have failed to adequately procured the readers consent on the forced-sex/forced seduction. This may happen because the authors fail to realize they are writing a forced-sex/forced seduction story or fail to articulate the boundaries of consent well enough for that particular reader.

Initially the scenes are fairly tame but they escalate throughout the book as trust grows between the couple. And Vivienne understands that she can say no at any time.

Because of the way the story is structured, the reader gives consent by way of Vivienne’s consent. Similarly in One Cut Deeper, the sadistic hero constantly pushes the heroine to find her limits, not for his sake but for hers. The heroine’s arc in One Cut Deeper is finding her own control. Vivienne’s is understanding that one violent sexual assault didn’t take hers away.

There’s probably nothing more confusing for a man like Ronson than the rape fantasy. He’s been told that just getting rape threats is enough to adversely affect the mental health of a woman. Yet, 60% to 2/3 of women (according to varying studies) have had this fantasy at one time. It’s mainstream enough that Sally mentioned it in when Harry Met Sally.

But it’s a fantasy about taking back control. It’s a role playing fantasy where one party who you know and trust is going to take you by force within a certain set of controls. In some ways, I believe the fantasy is about eradicating the base line fear that lurks in the back of many women’s minds any time they are alone with a stranger or if not eradicating it, reclaiming it. If I am okay with being taken by force, the line of thinking would go, then I can survive this.

Women have been shamed over certain fantasies, arguing that those consenting role-playing fantasies lend itself to confusion to the male population. By creating a shame surrounding the fantasy, by questioning its equivalence to actual rape, the critics are taking the control and power away from the women who enjoy it.

One researcher says the rape fantasy is about eradicating guilt associated with feeling sexual and the idea that a man would want them enough to transgress everything. Another researcher suggested that it has to do with childhood transgressions but no researcher knows for sure. How can they?

“What I can tell you is that rape fantasy fiction is just that: fantasy and fiction. For me, rape fiction is nothing like rape and maybe that’s why it is acceptable to me. It’s, for lack of a better word, romanticized. Even when it’s explicit and forced and violent, it is still fundamentally different from the actual experience, at least to me. When I read rape fantasies, I get turned on, similar to reading a regular sex scene but more intense.”

“Further, the rape fantasy, as a romanticized erotic interlude between the hero and heroine, will function as romantically successful, empowering, or liberating to the extent that the heroine and/or the reader responds to the incident and interprets/values its consequences within the context of the relationship and the story itself. For me, the key element in valuing these rape fantasies (sometimes referred to as forced seductions) is the extent to which the reader consents on behalf of the heroine, not only to the hero’s forceful taking, but also to the happy romantic ending that the couple share. Whether these incidents of sexual force are politically liberating or limiting in regard to female sexuality and patriarchal dominance is a distinct if related question, and one to which I will posit the answer as both.”

Rape very much is about control being taken from a person. It’s an act of power, cruelty and dominance. The forced-sex role play is about willingly submitting to the act with the full knowledge that the power to end it all exists wholly within the taken turning that person from victim into participant.

Lilah Pace’s book explores the psychological and physical and emotional journey of one woman’s rape survival and how she comes to terms with her own fantasies. One of my favorite parts of the book is where the therapist suggests to Vivienne that perhaps she’d have those fantasies regardless of her sexual past—maybe that is just how she is wired.

In the end, the important thing is that the rape fantasy is exactly that—a fantasy. Both the reader and the person who experiences the forced-sex role play in real life—has the power to turn off the fantasy at any time. The reader walks away from the book, the person who is the taken in the role-play can (or at least should be able to) give the safe word at any time and end the experience. It’s the ability of a woman to separate fact (rape) from fiction (role playing). The refusal to allow women to do this is an exertion of the male privilege paradigm over one where women have power and agency (not over men but over their own bodies and their own fantasies).

It’s fascinating that Ronson didn’t make the connection about sex, power, and shame when he contemplated rape and rape threats given that his entire book is about power and shame. The act and the fantasy are at opposite ends of the spectrum, maybe in two different paradigms and those two paradigms can’t co-exist until the push to characterize forced-sex role playing as shameful ends.

No doubt there are some who think that if a woman can fantasize about rape, then a man can joke about it. But the man’s joke is about exerting power over a woman in a violent, invasive manner whereas a woman’s fantasy is about reclaiming control, agency and power over her own sexuality.

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Jane Litte is the founder of Dear Author, a lawyer, and a lover of pencil skirts. She self publishes NA and contemporaries (and publishes with Berkley and Montlake) and spends her downtime reading romances and writing about them. Her TBR pile is much larger than the one shown in the picture and not as pretty.
You can reach Jane by email at jane @ dearauthor dot com

Thinking of this and male reponse to rape, check out the case of a man being raped in Cambridge UK. He was apparently drunk and easily waylaid. The two attackers were given 12 years and no where was the sobriety or otherwise of the victim mentioned as a possible excuse. Now, imagine if the victim had been a woman. I am sorry to say that I think it would have been.

The forced seductions in the romance novels of the ’80s were often about a woman getting what she wanted (sex with the hero) without having to appear to want it, thus keeping her reputation as a “good girl.” It was, therefore, a way for authors to have sex and a “nice girl” for a heroine. For me, the consent was that this was actually what the woman wanted, but felt she couldn’t ask for.

This is an excellent article on a subject I’ve been pondering for a while. I appreciate your perspective, Jane, and thank you for helping me to be more compassionate toward Ronson. SAO’s point is a good one as well. Even without rape/forced seduction, a lot of the sexual tension in many of the romances I’ve read is the result of the heroine being torn between her heart/body and her mind; the alpha male hero frequently pushes the heroine just beyond her comfort zone and urges her to give in to her desire/emotions. As SAO noted, the hero leads her into an experience she wants but is afraid to consent to. In the heart/body vs. mind scenario, however, that fear comes not so much from shame around female sexuality but rather from a fear of emotionally investing in an inappropriate partner. The heroine’s head tells her it’s a bad idea to get involved, but her heart and body are all for it. In a culture where we are taught to tightly control our emotions and impulses and to instead obey our reason, the heroine longs for a body-response to the hero that is strong enough to eradicate, even if only momentarily, the “shoulds” and “should-nots” of reason and learned behavior.

I may come back to this with a more coherent comment, but I just wanted to say — man, content warnings are awesome. I saw the title of the post, decided if I wanted to read it or not, came prepared for the discussion.

The book mentioned in this piece was sent as a promoted email by Netgalley. There was no warning, and the text was an image, not an actual email (so my filters didn’t catch it). It was incredibly triggering (I’m a CSA survivor and am threatened with being raped on a sadly regular basis due to my career, and we consider it a good industry event when our woman-presenting staff are only sexually harassed and not assaulted), whereas in a different context or with some tiny bit of warning, I would have been able to go “Oh, nope, not interested” and delete it. Or decide to read it later because maybe I would be interested. But if I’ve gone to such lengths as to block the word rape from my inbox due to the number of threats I get, I just… feel like I can’t win sometimes when it comes to my own safety.

I don’t blame the author at all, btw. I did contact both Netgalley and the publisher (as the promo email was written as if coming directly from the editor), and Netgalley was extremely kind about it and while they couldn’t assure me it wouldn’t happen again, they didn’t treat me poorly over it (and what does it say, that I expect that?). It was just one of those things that people do unthinkingly, and I’m not mad about it, but that’s not the same as upset. I’m still upset about it. Which is a shame because I find the premise of the book, and this essay, very interesting and worth talking about.

Sorry for the tangent, but unfortunately this specific book causes me a lot of anxiety and I haven’t even read it, and I HATE that this is the case.

I am a CSA survivor and have been raped as a teen and as an adult, and navigate a lot of really toxic sludge involving rape and death threats on a pretty regular basis (and this is all stuff I’m pretty open about). I also had some pretty risky and self-destructive behaviour sexually when I was younger, which I only found out recently is actually really common for CSA victims. I’ve had therapy for the trauma, and the shame, and the difficulty in finding self-worth in anything other than offering my body up as that was all I felt it was good for. I absolutely do not feel that way anymore, and don’t believe it of anyone else either (you are worthwhile, you are wonderful, and you deserve to be loved and respected for who you are).

I also had rape fantasies for a long time, including after I was raped (and had significant memory blocks of my childhood). It’s something I’ve discussed with my therapist, because I don’t have them anymore, but I don’t think it’s a result of something being broken or wrong with me, you know? I am FINE with fantasies, because they’re exactly that — fantasies. You are in control from start to finish, and nothing is happening without your explicit consent. I’m fine with people wanting them acted out, too, in safe and consensual ways. Despite having them, I did in no way want to be raped, and despite orgasming (which is really a mindbender, oh my gosh) did not derive anything but pain and fear and shame and humiliation from it (and now anger, and PTSD). Having a fantasy even about a specific person did not mean I actually wanted to be raped by that person. I enjoyed reading rape scenarios and porn for a little while. I still occasionally enjoy erotica where a rape fantasy is fulfilled, as long as it’s 100% explicit that yup, it’s consensual and absolutely everyone is on-board.

This is the case for me and I absolutely don’t think my experience is universal, but there is also a massive difference for me between rape fantasies and flashbacks of my actual rape. One is arousing, I am doing it on purpose, and is very much for me a control and power thing (in powerlessness, it’s kind of odd logic to me but it works). One is horrifying, requires immediate medication (and grounding, which is REALLY HARD to remember when you’re deep in relived trauma), and generally has me suffering from severe anxiety and emotional-hurricane for a full day. The two honestly could not be further from each other.

So really, I’m also extremely sensitive to rape material when I am NOT actively consenting to it — it comes as a blindside, it’s a severe physiological and psychological reaction (my meds are adrenaline blockers as well as anti-anxiety meds, and quite frankly those adrenaline blockers are amazing for exposure therapy as well as nighttime flashbacks and triggered flashbacks). It took years for me to be able to even articulate it. There are movies and books where just the title is enough to throw me into an emotional tailspin and elicit nausea and shivers (and one was really popular for quite a while augh) because they caught me unprepared and the reaction is that immediate and visceral.

There are also movies and books that I enjoy because I know what’s going on in it and I am consenting to it for whatever reasons. I still don’t enjoy graphic rape in books or movies (even implied is enough to give me a bad reaction if I’m not expecting it), but if I know about it I’m okay with it and I think the rest of the book or movie is worth reading or watching. I’m not a fan of oldschool romance, but I’m down with characters having rape fantasies or having been raped in the past and wanting to explore it.

Anyhow, I think a lot of this informs my reactions to people as well — if someone is becoming upset over something, it’s a cue for me to start listening because my experiences don’t match theirs, and theirs are obviously painful. I find that a lot of people (and a lot of men especially) assume their experiences are universal because the whole world is built to cater to them as THE sole human experience, so they absolutely cannot comprehend why someone else would get upset about something when they aren’t upset by it.

It’s an empathy problem, but it’s one that we perpetuate by expecting it from women (and others!) but assuming that men aren’t required to have it at all. Women are peacemakers and expected to forego their own needs and put every man, including total strangers, above herself. Men are expected to do whatever the hell they want with no consequences, because if they want something, clearly everyone else wants it too.

I can’t recall where I heard it, but someone said “Every man’s fantasy is for a woman to say, ‘Do what you want to me’, and every woman’s fantasy is to be able to say to a man ‘Do what I want to me'”. I don’t think it’s every, no, but I think that’s a pretty sharp perspective on the power dynamics at play during a rape fantasy.

Also, we say “rape fantasy” with the assumption that the person having the fantasy is being raped, no? Not that they are raping someone else? Because I have a lot of feels about the latter, but am trying to suss out what is so different between the two for me. Also, just because I have mixed feelings about it doesn’t mean I think anyone should feel ashamed or wrong for having and enjoying these fantasies, it’s just something that I’m trying to untangle for myself.

@Lindsay: First let me say that I *always* appreciate your comments, Lindsay, as well as your forthrightness in making them.

I can’t recall where I heard it, but someone said “Every man’s fantasy is for a woman to say, ‘Do what you want to me’, and every woman’s fantasy is to be able to say to a man ‘Do what I want to me’”. I don’t think it’s every, no, but I think that’s a pretty sharp perspective on the power dynamics at play during a rape fantasy.

I had not heard this, but I definitely think there’s some truth to this.

As to your question about whether rape fantasy refers to someone being “raped,” my understanding is that yes, it’s generally used to refer to a type of submission fantasy, where the fantasizer is submitting.

I’ve found Nancy Friday’s work on sexual fantasy (she focuses especially on submission fantasy) to be helpful. And it’s very sex, woman, and fantasy positive.

In the Cambridge case, there was video footage of the two rapists molesting various women on the streets of the city in the previous hours, and of them frog-marching the victim into a public park. He telephoned the police from the scene moments after the attack, from which he suffered physical injuries. Lastly, their story — that this unathletic, hopelessly intoxicated civilian, jumped two fit off-duty soldiers and robbed them of their money — was incredible. In those circumstances, getting a conviction wasn’t difficult. It might have been very different if he had been raped in his flat. Then, I daresay, his alcohol consumption would indeed have been treated as a significant consideration.

In general, male rape victims in Britain fare very badly at the hands of law enforcement. Noreen Abdullah-Khan’s recent book, “Male Rape: The Emergence of a Social and Legal Issue” (Macmillan) is good on this subject.

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